“What else can we say, Mr. Duff? The more we guess the less we know.”
“But who will it warn next time, now that it has done its duty by Señor Bazán? What about that, sir?”
Ricardo was immensely startled. This had not occurred to him. He look frightened as he replied:
“Señorita Teresa Fernandez, his niece? I wonder if I shall hear four bells if any misfortune hangs over her. I may not know where she is. Suppose I am not there to help and protect her. You and I are certainly going dotty, Mr. Duff. I want to get this ship to sea again.”
“First time I ever saw you down-hearted,” said the sympathetic chief officer. “Sit tight and forget it. Señor Bazán was due to pass out anyhow. He was living on borrowed time. It’s different with a healthy girl that knows her way about, though I know there’s nothing worries a man as much as a sweetheart. Lord love you, I used to have ’em from Singapore to Rio.”
Cary turned away. The talk was getting too intimate. He called himself an idiot for letting such strange fancies distress him. He had lost a devoted friend in Ramon Bazán, for all his whims and crotchets, and he felt badly shaken by it. When later in the morning the ship’s company decorously assembled on the beach, he was deeply affected. Solemnly the bell tolled on the Valkyrie. A prayer-book was lacking, but Ricardo said the verses he had learned at his mother’s knee. And when the grave was filled, the sailors covered it with gorgeous wreaths of tropical flowers. An assistant engineer, with cold chisel and hammer, cut the dead man’s name and the emblem of the Holy Cross. This they did for Ramon Bazán who had fared venturesomely forth from Cartagena to find his journey’s end on this lonely, storied island of the wide Pacific.
It was not demanded of them that they should any longer be idle. And so Richard Cary led them to the devastated camp to view it by daylight. They were bold and eager again. The terrors of darkness had faded from their minds. Instantly they fell to enlarging the hole in which they had discovered the silver. They expected to uncover tons of it. Disappointment was their lot. In all they uncovered no more than three hundred weight. This seemed trifling. They were uncertain where next to explore. At random they shoveled the gravel and threw out scattered coins and bars of bullion.
The greater part of the treasure might be underneath the vast heap of rock which had fallen from the cliff, or it might be buried far under the landslide from the higher slope. All the rest of the day they toiled, but it was a gigantic task for a few men, and they felt baffled and discouraged. They doubted the truth of the saying that faith can remove mountains. There was no inclination to remain away from the ship after the sun went down behind the lofty hill. The shadows of night were fearsome company.
For Richard Cary the enterprise had lost its zest. He kept his thoughts to himself until evening when he went to Charlie Burnham’s room. These two were kindred spirits, in a way, youthful tropical rovers who had wandered far from rugged New Hampshire farms. They were sprung from the same kind of stock. They spoke the same language and were ballasted with like traits of character. Because they understood each other, Cary could lay aside the masterful pose of one whose word was law. It was safe to make a confidant of Charlie Burnham.
“Instead of raising such a row, you ought to be thankful you didn’t lose a leg,” said Cary as he pulled a chair close to the bunk.